


My Best Friend's Father

by numbertwelvebakerstreet



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, but still, will is 18 so not quite underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbertwelvebakerstreet/pseuds/numbertwelvebakerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So a couple months ago I saw <a href="http://hannigram.com/post/82491117831/how-on-earth-did-they-manage-to-make-hannibal-look">this tumblr post by haanigram</a> and my hand slipped and the "best friend's father porn" au <a href="http://willymongoo.tumblr.com/post/82551974007/haanigram-how-on-earth-did-they-manage-to-make">just sort of happened</a>. And then this angsty indie drama plot bunny got ahold of me and the following fic happened. You cannot judge me harder than I'm judging myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Best Friend's Father

Brian was planning to spend the weekend away on a camping trip with some school friends Will didn't know. Will and Brian hadn't attended the same school for six years, as a consequence of Will's father's constant moving, never settling. But Brian Lecter and his father had always been fond of and had kept in touch with Will,  even when it meant driving halfway across the state to pick him up for a meal or sleepover. It meant that the Lecters were among the very few consistent, positive things in Will's life. It also meant that most of Brian's friends were not Will's friends. Brian got that, and he got Will's inherent shyness around new people, so he wasn't surprised when Will declined his polite offer to join in on the trip.

"You know, this girl I've been seeing's got this cute friend, Alana, who's coming with us," Brian was saying over the phone. "She's cool, but she's always turning down guys at school, thinks they're too dumb or immature or whatever. She's not stuck-up, just crazy smart, like I think she's up for valedictorian. She came over as a part of this big group for a movie night over at my place, one of the ones you decided to miss? Ended up talking to my dad for like an hour about all this philosophical and literary shit nobody could follow. I think half the conversation was in French. You'd like her."

"You said she turns everybody down," Will said, desperately trying to worm his way out of this renewal of Brian's constant attempts to get Will a date. If only Brian knew how much more deeply unwelcome it was at present.

"I said she turns dumb guys down," Brian parried. "Which is why I think you'd like each other."

"You asked her out first, didn't you?"

"Yep. Dad wanted me to - he looked about ready to adopt her. Kind of the way he's always looked at you. But, like I said - doesn't like dumb guys."

Brian's tone was lighthearted as always, but Will knew him well enough to detect some bitterness there. It had been difficult for Brian as it would be for most anyone to live up to a father like Dr. Hannibal Lecter. And though Will was and had been Brian's best friend for as long as they'd known each other, Brian had always held onto a bit of jealousy over the doctor's consistent and ready approval of Will.

"You're not dumb, you just want people to think you are," Will said, keeping his tone light and teasing, as well, though he did gravely want Brian to believe the words. "So you started dating her friend when she said no?"

"I roll with the punches. Look, I'll talk you up to her this weekend, and you just tell me you'll think about it, ok?"

"Yeah, I will." He didn't say, _Now please, God, let that be the end of it._

"Awesome. See you in a couple days."

"See you. "

 

Will's dad gave his usual distracted nod of assent to Will's usual Friday-night proclamation of, "I'm driving over to Brian's to spend the weekend."

Will left out that Brian wouldn't be home.

When Dr. Lecter answered the door in his shirtsleeves, Will felt a burning in the pit of his stomach that he'd grown accustomed to feeling in the doctor's presence over the last year or so. But now it was coupled with an unfamiliar nervousness. What had before been a strange, distant crush had transformed into something much more tenuous, more frightening, and more precious when Dr. Lecter had responded positively to Will's first shaky overtures in Lecter's office about a week ago.

“Come in,  Will," Lecter said with his usual warm smile.

But when he took Will's jacket there was a light brush of fingers, and the touch crackled in his eyes.

"Have you eaten?" Lecter asked, voice polite, unwavering.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Then can I offer you something to drink? I was just about to make tea."

"Tea sounds great, thank you."

Will needed something to calm his nerves, and wasn't sure about asking for alcohol.

It was a prematurely cold fall evening, so Lecter had made hot rather than iced tea and had set up a warm fire where they were seated in the drawing room.

It would have been a nice setting for simple conversation, had Lecter not sat directly beside Will on the sofa. With the proximity, Will's hands had set aside his mug of tea and were all over the other man in an instant. Lecter simply sat openly, limbs spread wide and mouth slackened to receive all of Will's desperate gropings and kisses.

But when he began to fumble with the button of Lecter's pants, the man held Will's wrists away gently, and Will panicked slightly, wondering whether he'd gone too far, whether the doctor had finally decided that this couldn't lead anywhere.

But Lecter said, "We should take this upstairs, Will," and they did, Will following Lecter eagerly but quietly to the master bedroom.

The house was huge, and for all his years of visiting the place, Will had only ever explored most of the rooms. This wasn't one he had seen before, though he had walked dozens of times past the set of samurai armor standing like a guardian on a pedestal across from the door. This time it allowed him passage.

The room was quiet and serene, all blues and grays and tasteful Japanese artwork, with an enormous bed at the center. Will sat down at the edge of it, chest heaving with trepidation.

Unexpectedly, Lecter knelt down on the floor in front of Will, and asked gently, "How are you, Will?"

"I'm fine; I'm ready. Dr. Lecter, you're sure you want to do this?"

"I'm absolutely certain," Lecter said, planting a kiss on the side of Will's mouth. "And you may call me Hannibal."

But that wasn't the name that came breathlessly to Will's lips moments later when the man was licking up Will's hardness, fingers inserted in him and stroking languidly over his prostate. Instead it was "Dr. Lecter," over and over between gasps and moans.

"Do - Dr. Lecter . . ." Will was saying again, palming Hannibal through his pants. "Please."

Lecter sucked once more at Will's flushed erection, marvelling at the shuddering groan it elicited from the young man. Then he stood and made a show of stripping his lower half and coating himself with lube as Will sat up to watch. He climbed up over Will, sliding his hands to cradle the boy's back, kissing him tenderly, and entered him. Will gasped softly at Hannibal's shoulder.

"You are beautiful, Will," Hannibal said in his ear, and rocked into him, slowly at first, but then Will was lying down beneath him, lifting his own knees and spreading them wide, grasping and pulling at Hannibal's hips to make him move harder and faster, and gradually he did.

Will trembled when Hannibal took hold of him in one hand. After two pulls Will’s breath left him and he came all at once. Hannibal fucked him through the aftershocks until the doctor tensed with his own orgasm and then relaxed, pulled Will up to sitting again so he could embrace and thumb soothing circles against the young man’s back, as Will gently kissed all over Hannibal’s face.

 

After their second night together, Will and the doctor were lying naked on a soft comforter beside a new fire in the drawing room as Will stared up at the mantlepiece and curiosity got the better of him.

"Is that Brian's mother?" Will asked softly.

Lecter's eyes followed Will's to the framed, sketched portrait of a woman, beautiful and austere, head and eyes cast down and to the side like those of a Christ being crucified.

"Yes," Lecter said, and there was a profound emotion, beyond loss or longing, darkening his eyes.

"She's beautiful," Will said earnestly. "Can I ask what she was like?"

Lecter looked at Will curiously, but fondly, and then back at the picture as he answered, "She was fiercely intelligent, ambitious, proud, and yet capable of such empathy as I didn't think possible in a human soul.  She was . . . my equal. She understood me, changed me completely, where I didn't think it possible, where anyone else would have been a fool to try. Her name was Clarice."

"What happened to her?"

Will knew that she had died when Brian was a baby, but had never asked how.

"Perhaps Brian should be the one to tell you that, when he feels ready."

 

The next Friday night, Will drove to the movies on Brian’s invitation. Brian had neglected to mention that his girlfriend would be there, along with her friend.

“Will Graham, Alana Bloom. Alana Bloom, Will Graham,” Brian introduced with grandiosity.

Will glared at Brian, then gave the girl a not-look through the rim of his slipping glasses and nodded in acknowledgement of her.

Sensing Will’s discomfort, Alana gave a tight smile and a quick, though not unfriendly “Hello” before quickly turning back to conversation with her friend.

“Will, _buddy,_ let’s get us some snacks,” Brian said with a reproving look.

In the concessions line, Brian piped up, “Alright, I told her you’re shy, but if you just ignore her and glare at her all night, she’s gonna give up.”

“I didn’t even agree to this.”

“Exactly - you never agree to anything. Which is why you need some help along. If you graduate without ever having gotten laid, I’ll take it as negligence on my part. And I can’t live with that kind of guilt.”

“You fuck me, then.”

“I’m nearing the end of my rope here - don’t give me ideas.”

An awkward two and a half hours later, most of which Will had spent acting like a statue next to Alana in the theater, Will and Brian were sitting alone at one of their favorite spots since childhood, at the edge of the docks, legs dangling a few feet above the water. As they got older it had become their tradition to pass between them a flask filled in secret from Will's father's stores of liquor.

“I think she liked you.” Brian was saying optimistically. “Or maybe she just has some kind of professional curiosity about you, since she wants to major in psychology.”

“I think she’s never gonna want to be alone in a room with me.”

“Also a possibility. At least I tried.”

There was a pause as Brian took a long swig from the flask, then he said, "My dad says you asked him about how my mom died."

Will tensed.

"It's fine. I'm actually surprised I never told you. She'd been having a lot of issues - she'd been in law enforcement  and I guess had some kind of PTSD after a shootout. A woman, this drug dealer, was shooting at her squad, carrying her own baby in a sling. My mom shot the woman in the head, with the baby still strapped onto the woman's chest. The baby was fine; my mom made sure. She retired, moved to Europe with my dad, got pregnant with me. We were living in Florence, I had just gotten old enough she didn't need to breastfeed anymore, and she hanged herself from the stairwell. I asked my dad if she'd said anything, to explain why. He said she left a note. It just said, "The lambs stopped screaming." Whatever the hell that means. I've looked it up a bunch of times, but nothing. I guess she just lost it."

"Brian . . . I'm sorry." Will didn't know what else to say. He felt traitorous, receiving this honesty from Brian while withholding what was going on between himself and Dr. Lecter. He wondered whether Brian would still have opened up about his mom if he knew.

"It's really fine, you know?" Brian continued. "I never really knew her, so I've never gotten the chance to miss her. We've been good, just Dad and me. He's made sure I've never wanted for anything. I feel bad for him sometimes, though. I mean, you know my dad, he always looks totally put-together. If a ceiling collapsed on him, I don't think it would faze him. But  we've got this huge empty house, and sometimes - not lately, actually - but I used to catch him looking . . . lonely.  Sitting around drawing or reading or playing that goddamn harpsichord and looking, you know, content, but like he was caged. Like there was potential for more, for some actual happiness, but he'd been . . . subdued. Like he's settling. It got better when I started hanging out with you, actually. He's always really liked you. But sometimes I sort of wish he had somebody."

"Brian?"

"Hm?"

"I've been sleeping with your dad."

Brian froze, choked and sputtered in the midst of a draught of whiskey, and when he'd caught his breath, laughed his ass off.

Will didn't know whether to feel frustrated or relieved that Brian had taken his confession for a joke.

Brian looked up, saw the grim expression on Will's face, and then doubled over with a second bout of laughter.

"You're fucking crazy, man," Brian said, wiping tears from his eyes. Will gave a sheepish grin in response, halfheartedly pretending to be in on the joke he hadn't intended to make.

"C'mon," Brian said, standing. "Let's go get some fast food; I'm starving. I know my dad's snob friends all think he's this brilliant chef, but I think some of what he feeds people has got to be some sadistic form of amusement for him. For dinner tonight - and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried - he made _fish Jello_."

 

For a couple months, Will had deliberately avoided being with both Lecter men at the same time. He'd had quick fumblings with the doctor at his psychiatry practice, a couple more nights alone with him when Brian was out with friends. When he spent time with Brian, he made sure they each took their own cars and met away from Brian's house, at the docks or the movies or a food place.

Now, though, Brian was calling him on it, telling him, "If I have to suffer through my dad's cooking alone for one more night, I'm telling Alana Bloom about that homecoming when you got drunk and puked in the bathroom sink," and Will was forced to realize the avoidance itself was starting to look suspicious.

So Will found himself at the Lecters' dinner table, just like when he was a kid, eating a relatively innocuous pasta dish. As if nothing had changed.

Lecter was asking Will about the colleges he had lined up, looking on with pride and an unmistakable affection when Will mentioned wanting to join the police force, and something clicked behind Brian's eyes, some firing of synapses that accompanied an important revelation. Will watched it happen, understanding why it did. While it was true Brian wasn't as apt or motivated as his parents had been, one didn't grow up with Hannibal Lecter for a father without picking up a few things about reading people. Brian had read the look on his father's face, had considered both Will's and the doctor's strange behavior over the past months, and suddenly all the pieces snapped into place. Brian fumed. Will simply waited for Dr. Lecter to finish talking, eyes fixed on his friend.

"What the everliving fuck?" Brian said slowly, evenly, narrowed eyes trained on his father's placid ones. Will thought that in that moment, while sporting that quiet, dangerous expression, Brian resembled his father more than he ever had.

"Brian," Hannibal said, an empty chastisement. Hannibal looked more curious than offended. Will felt sick.

"How long has this been going on?"

Hannibal only blinked, still feigning confusion, but the tension broke Will.

"Three months," Will said.

"That all?" Brian said, eyes never leaving his father's. "So you weren't looking at a twelve-year-old kid, thinking about fucking him?"

"Brian!" It was Will who said it this time, with genuine shock. Brian ignored him.

"My feelings towards Will were entirely paternal when he was a child," Hannibal said calmly. "Will is no longer a child."

"You know, I'm pretty well aware that you're completely incapable of having a normal, healthy relationship with another human being, that you aren't happy with another person unless you've got them wriggling under your thumb, but I thought you had some respect, if not for me, then for Will. I thought you might have had some line to draw at fucking your teenaged son's best friend."

"Brian, I started this," Will said desperately. "I came onto him first."

Brian finally turned to Will, but the look was acidic, and Will wished he hadn't.

"You're a lonely, weird kid with a crush, Will. That's cute," Brian said. "But you have no idea what he is."

Brian got up and somehow managed to storm silently out of the room. Will flinched at the sounds of a car door slamming and an engine starting, then fading away outside.

"What the hell was that? Are you even a little bit worried about him? How are you still eating? Do you even feel guilty?"

In defense against Will’s deluge of accusatory questions, Hannibal said only, "My son can handle himself far better than you think. And I never feel guilty about eating anything."

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
